Title: More Precious Than Gold
Author: Arekkusu-89
Genre: Drama/Suspense
Rating: M
Explanation for Rating: This is a yaoi fic, so what were you expecting? (sex, strong language. You know - the works), in other words, this fic is NOT suitable for anyone under 17. You have been warned.
Status: Complete
Summary: Eiri receives various threats demanding him to quit his career as a writer. At first the threats are minor – like bothersome anonymous calls and emails – but eventually escalate into worse things. How will he deal with it since it's also seriously affecting his relationship with Shuichi? Will he find the culprit before the incidents finally escalate into something horrible?

Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation (but you probably already guessed that). Also - as you should already know - Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami (and if you don't know that, than shame on you! jk). I am only borrowing her beautiful characters, and I do not make any money off these writings (which is too bad for me).


EPISODE 1: It Was Like Some Horrible Joke...

"NO, YOU DAMN BRAT! As much as I'd love to get in bed with you right now, I fucking can't!"

"But, Yuki," Shuichi whined while clinging tightly onto Eiri's legs. He looked up at his blond lover with big, violet - almost girly - eyes, which were bubbling over with a fountain of shiny, crystal-clear tears. "You promised!"

Eiri closed his eyes and mentally counted slowly to ten. When he was finished he let out a long, irritated sigh - apparently the counting didn't work quite as well as he'd hoped; he was still feeling very irate - and for good reasons. First off, his deadline was fast approaching an end, and he still had several lengthy chapters to complete. Second, he had writers block, which was a serious hamper to any writer - especially one with an imminent deadline looming around the corner. One more distraction was not appreciated at the moment.

If it weren't for the fact that several people with power (namely a red haired guitarist and a certain blond American) would be very upset if the little pink-haired baka somehow turned up dead, he'd have exterminated the little brat a long time ago.

"Shu-i-chi," He hissed through clenched teeth, carefully pronouncing each syllable as if they were individual words. "If I don't meet this deadline, there won't be anything left of me to get in bed with you once my editor gets through with me. Got it? So leave, Shuichi. Leave. Right. Now."

Word by word, the meaning of Eiri's command slowly sunk its way into the vocalist's brain. Finally, Shuichi understood the message, and slumped his shoulders in defeat. He loosened his impossibly tight grip on Eiri's legs, and bowed his head submissively. He knew the novelist enough to realize that when he got like this, there was absolutely no changing his mind. It was like trying to slam a revolving door; utterly impossible.

Shuichi bit his lip to keep it from trembling. "Okay Yuki - I understand. Gomen." He completely released his hold on the writer. With a soft and dejected voice he added, "I'll leave you alone now. I guess I'll just go to work."

Eiri sighed and looked over at his desk clock. He had to squint against the red digit's impossibly bright glare to see the numbers properly. "Shuichi, its five in the morning - just go back to sleep."

"Huh?" Shu asked, but the other man was already deeply engrossed with his typing and didn't hear him. Sighing, he left the room and softly closed the door behind him. Crestfallen, he slumped to the ground and leaned back against the door to Eiri's office. It was then that he noticed the unusually dark and quiet atmosphere of the apartment. Curious, he glanced down at his waterproof-up-to-100-meters ANR-E brand wrist watch which had been a birthday gift from Hiro last year. Oh, he thought, it's only five am. I guess I'll just go back to sleep.


Once Shuichi finally left the room, Eiri immediately stopped his fake typing ruse (who's sole purpose was to make him seem exceptionally busy) and reopened his email program.

Before being so rudely interrupted by the hyperactive, strawberry-haired baka, he had received a strange email, and was about to open it when Shu burst into the room, begging Eiri to go to bed with him. What in all hell possessed the little brat to get out of bed this early anyway? Surely his unquenchable lust for the sexy blond novelist wasn't that strong...or was it? Eiri chuckled softly, amused by his own thoughts.

Normally, the tall, golden-eyed novelist would've jumped at the chance - any chance for that matter - to spend some quality, pleasure-filled time with his boy-toy, but something about the e-mail's appearance bothered him to the point where his curiosity overruled all other impulses (which was really saying something).

First of all, he didn't recognize the address. Normally that wouldn't be any cause for concern; he'd just assume it was from some idiot fan gushing words of love and worship over his him and his books - which 99.9 of the time was the case - and delete it, but this email was addressed to his private account - an account that only a select group of people knew about. Lastly - and more importantly - the subject line read "to uesugi".

This stranger knew not only his private email address, but his family name as well. How?

Eiri hesitated for only a moment before clicking it open. The message itself was very simple, and displayed no fancy font style or background. It simply read: "Quit your writing career, Uesugi. A warning is only fair. Decide what's more precious to you: your life or your career. Choose your gold. Signed - 24"

Eiri let out the tense breath he'd been holding and very well rolled his eyes; somebody's not only been reading too many whodunits, but also has waaaay too much time on their hands.

Now, this wasn't the first time he'd had received the "odd letter", but this was the first time he'd received the odd letter addressing him by his family name, Uesugi. Not many people knew his real name; a fact that he didn't plan on changing any time soon. And by the way, what the hell was that about gold? And what kind of a name is '24'?

He figured the sender was just some loser who really needed to spend some time in the real world - and get a girlfriend while he was at it. But it still bothered him; who sent it? Could it really just be some teenage punk with greasy, multi-colored hair and a geeky demeanor that screamed "computer hacker", who had exceptional information-gathering skills, and didn't seem to care that novelists didn't have time to deal with such amateurish crap - or was this threat real for once?

He glanced at the return address, and mentally gasped when he noticed it - or rather, the lack of it. How the hell do you send email without letting the recipient see your return address?

Quickly, he made a mental list of all the people who had his private address: Mika, Tatsuha, Tohma, and his editor. That's it. No one else. He never even gave the address to Shuichi, for fear that he'd most definitely unintentionally leak it somehow.

But why would any of them send me shit like this? Eiri thought. No, not my editor; she simply has nothing in hell to gain from it. Mika? No, despite the fact that my dear aneki disapproves of my scandalous choice of careers, her pride would never allow her to steep so low as to send threatening emails. Besides, she's more of the straight-forward type; meaning that when she wants to tell me something, she'll track me down and say it to my face - no letters, no emails, not even phone calls would do for her. As for her hubby, well, that pretentious bastard loves me too much to bug me with something so stupid and - like as in the case with my sister - so beneath him. Besides; anonymous threats simply ain't his style. Maybe it was Tatsuha? ...Nah. Eiri snorted. My promiscuous-monk of a brother couldn't care less what I do for a living. Hell, I could be number one on Japan's Most Wanted, or even the world's most infamous and feared terrorist, and yet my otouto wouldn't mind. That is, as long as I didn't threaten the life of one particular lace-pants-wearing pop-star. He smirked, but it didn't last long.

Or maybe one of them gave the address away? Eiri let his head fall into his hands. The possibilities were endless. Did he really have time to ponder them all? No. Was there even any point in pondering? No. So why even worry? Aw, fuck it. I doubt this incident will happen again anyway. Besides, I have work to do.

So he proceeded to delete the email and continue in his attempts to overcome his case of writers block so he could write another chapter for his new, soon-to-be-bestselling book.

Still, he wondered...


"Oh, Yuki! I made breakfast for you!" Shuichi said in a sing-song voice while standing proudly by the table, on which sat a plate of something which only remotely resembled breakfast.

You've got to be kidding me, Eiri thought. He wearily eyed the creation on the plate, and then gazed irately at the impossible mess covering the stove and all the counters, which just hours before had been absolutely spotless. Apparently, Shuichi had been exercising his long-dormant, near non-existent culinary abilities.

Shu, oblivious to the older man's currently rising temper, grinned widely; obviously very proud of his cooking "accomplishment".

Eiri pretended to ignore what the purple-eyed baka said. "You're still here? Don't you have to go to work?"

The singer's look of pride and happiness faltered, "Aw, come on Yuki! I wanted to make it up to you for bugging you earlier this morning. Won't you eat?"

You call making a mess, and - to top it off - asking me to eat something even a dog wouldn't accept 'making it up to me'? "Fine." Eiri growled after a moment. "But only if you shut that annoying mouth of yours."

The sound of Shu's jaw snapping shut practically echoed throughout the spacious and modern, yet currently disheveled kitchen.

Eiri exhaled angrily and sat down at the table. "What is it anyway?"

"It's an omelet."

That's what you say anyway, he thought.

Slowly, he bit into the near-unidentifiable "omelet", chewing carefully, as if concerned about the safety of doing such a thing. After all, it was Shuichi who made it, so who knows what sort of "ingredients" it contained.

Eiri finally swallowed. Without a word, he suddenly stood up and stalked towards the front door.

"Y-Yuki!" Shu shouted in surprise and sorrow, "Aren't you gonna finish it?"

He turned his head towards Shuichi before opening the door, "You couldn't pay me to eat that revolting shit. I have errands to run, so go to work. And don't forget to clean up that damn mess! OR ELSE!"


The mid-afternoon sun, which shone pleasantly through a large window K had opened in Studio B7, found Shuichi working on his newest song, or rather, more accurately, attempting to work on his newest song.

The small vocalist leaned back against the wall, idly holding the microphone to his chest. His mind was obviously somewhere else, and his face wore the unmistakable look of heartbreak.

"Shuichi is there something bothering you?" asked Hiro in his soft, gentle voice while setting his guitar down. "You've been really out of it since you got here; not wanting to sing, not writing any new lyrics, and letting your mind wander."

Normally Shuichi was as hyper as a little kid who had just eaten candy, so Hiro got worried anytime the vocalist was somber - especially to this degree.

"Yeah, Shindou," Suguru chimed in. "All your mistakes have forced us to start over nearly 30 times, AND IT'S REALLY BEGINNING TO PISS ME OFF!" He didn't quite shout that last part, but hissed in a furious tone.

Shuichi looked down. "I'm sorry, guys. Really. Let me try once more and I'll get it right."

Like hell he will, thought Suguru. At this rate, we'll never finish the song, and if that rate continues, our CD will never get out, and then the whole world will miss out on hearing my genius keyboarding skills. hmph.

As Suguru's thoughts had predicted, Shuichi once again screwed up.

Unfortunately though, it was at that moment that K's last strand of almost non-existent patience snapped. He whipped the Magnum .44 out from its holster, and aimed right at Shu's head.

"Alright, everybody out! Single file!" He yelled commandingly. "I'm gonna have a chat with our little screwed-up sorry-excuse-for-a-singer."

Nobody challenged him. Hiro, Suguru, and Sakano wordlessly scurried out the door - glad to escape K's wrath (not to mention his gun) for the time being.

The door shut with a bang. It echoed in the now near-empty room. Shu felt fear creep up his collar - and it wasn't from the painful silence that followed the departure of his friends - no, it was from the cold steel of the shiny barrel of K's Magnum pressed against his forehead.

"Now," K said in a soft, yet insensitive tone. "You are either going to tell me what's wrong with you so I can fix it and you can start singing again - or I will fill that empty head of yours with a bullet."

Shuichi said nothing. He just stared at the ground, trembling from fear at having the gun pressed so hard on his head. K sighed and put the little - yet quite deadly - weapon back into its holster.

K straightened up and crossed his arms. "Are you sick?"

Shuichi shook his head.

"Have you been missing sleep?"

Again he shook his head.

"Have you been eating properly?"

This time he nodded.

"Is everything alright with your family?"

Another nod.

"Then what the hell is wrong with you?"

Shuichi's face blushed red as he looked up at K, than down again before answering.

"Y-you see...Yuki's been, well, kinda cold to me lately, and-"

K didn't bother to listen to the rest of what his young charge was saying.

Eiri again.

God, why did Shuichi have to meet that bastard? And more than that, why did he have to fall in love with him? The American rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger while continuing to think. Every time that stupid writer gets mad at Shuichi, he comes in to work depressed beyond any help. This has got to stop.

"...and I've been racking my brains for what I could have done to upset..." Shuichi kept on blabbering.

"Goddammit!" Shouted K so loud that it nearly startled the soul out of Shu's body.

"I'm gonna shoot him."

"NOOOO! K, ONEGAI! I'LL DO BETTER, I PRO- no, SWEAR! I SWEAR!" Shuichi grabbed K's ankle as the American began to stalk out of the room. "PLEASE DON'T SHOOT MY YUKI!"

K suddenly stopped, and looked down at the pink-haired boy he was dragging across the floor. "Hm? Yuki? Who said anything about shooting Yuki? I meant that I was gonna shoot you."

With that, he took aim at Shuichi's head, and fired.


(In the next episode of "More Precious than Gold": K shoots Shuichi? What will be the aftermath of that little incident? Plus, we might learn just a pinch more about the mysterious '24'. Maybe there will even be a lemon involving Yuki and Shu awaiting us! ...so tune in soon for the next exciting installment!)

Japanese words used:
Gomen – I'm sorry
Baka – idiot, fool
Aneki – older sister
Otouto – little brother
Onegai - please

A/N: (9/5/07) Hello! I'm Arekkusu, and this is my first attempt at writing fan fiction. Actually, this is my first attempt at writing any kind of story period. I really hope you like it, and if not, that you can take it out on my inexperience lol. There is only one thing I ask, and that is to review if you have time - please! No flames please, but I do appreciate constructive criticism. I also welcome notices about misspellings, grammatical errors, storyline inconsistencies, etc. Thanks so much for reading my fic!